Paving The Road
by Darqstar
Summary: Otis, Baby, and Spaulding knew they were doomed to die. What they didn't know was what would happen to them once they did. This is a continution from The Devil's Rejects and no, nothing is changed from the ending. R&R would be muchly appreciated.
1. Chapter One Death Ain't Pretty

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to pay to read it.

This story contains excessive swearing and other mature themes.

**Paving The Road **

Chapter One  
_**Death Ain't Pretty.** _

There were very few things Otis B. Driftwood was afraid of. Death was not one of them. Death was all around him, all his life, and most of it caused by his hands. Or the hands of some member of his family. Death wasn't scary. Death was actually one of the more interesting things around in this whole stupid world.

Being dead didn't matter any more than being born. After all, the moment you were born you started on the road to dying. For some it was a long road, for others, particularly anyone who crossed _his_ path, a short one. But in the end, wasn't life just a way station on your way to becoming worm food?

What matter in his eyes was _how_ you died. Did God Almighty whack you with the Cancer stick and send you down, choking on your own blood, disgusting everyone around you, as you slowly withered away in some hospital room? Did you live to be 90, then jump into the sack with some 15 year old professional dick sucker and pop the ticker giving her the business? Slip away quietly in the night, of old age? Did you die begging for mercy, like anyone really gave a shit about your miserable life in the first place? Or, did you go down with a fight?

Nope, Otis didn't really care that he was dying, only that he was putting up the good fight. No old age or disease for Otis, no sirree. No giving up and begging quietly for the right to live, either. No "I'm sorry officer, I'll keep my hands where you can see them, and lie on the floor like a good little dog while you tie me up." No asking for mercy from a jury of fucking peers. (As if he could really have any peers. As far as Otis knew, it was damed unlikely there were a group of twelve necrophiliac serial killers running around waiting to do their civic duty.) No death by lethal injection either, that was a pretty pussy way to die too. Otis was going out in a blaze of glory. With his sister, someone he always had a feeling he'd die around. And Spaulding, who was a jackass for the most part, but not a bad person to die with push come to shove. Both of them knew the score and were just as willing as he was to keep fighting until the bitter end.

The final roadblock in life and for the remainder of the Firefly gang literally _was_ a roadblock. Otis would have almost found this last bit of black irony amusing, had he more time to think about it. Eh, that's the way it was. Time to do or die as the saying went. Or, in their case, do _and_ die.

It was funny, how much pain you could block out when you were determined to do something. And how far you could keep going when you really wanted to make your point. Pedal to the metal, guns blazing, Otis _almost_ made it up to the row of state troopers alive, _almost_ got the chance to watch himself bang some of them down like human bowling pins, as well as plug them with gun holes Sadly, he proved to be a bit too mortal. He was dead before they hit the barricade

He would have been pleased to know that even though he was dead, the car kept rolling and managed to take out three officers, wound two others, and destroy two police cruisers. Yup, that was a mess the taxpayers of would be paying off for years to come.

To Baby, the most surprising thing about this whole situation was how unsurprised she was. They had been really lucky so far, getting away from situations where they should have died, it would be too easy to start to think she, her father and her half brother were immortal. But, the moment she woke up and saw that road block ahead, she knew, like they all did, this was the end of the line. She wasn't surprised and she wasn't even upset. After all the running, after being the victim of Wydell's crazy little games last night, she was just too tired to keep going. At least in death, you could get some damned rest, right?

Her mother was dead, RJ was dead, and Tiny was dead. Her dad and Otis would soon be dead as well. What was there to live for anyway? Might as well stop worrying about staying alive and instead look forward to the big old family reunion that would soon be taking place in Hell.

Still, that didn't mean she would go down easily. She was a fighter like the rest of her family. Death was aiming for them, death was in the barrel of every gun the troopers in front her had aimed in their direction. Death was unavoidable, but she would be dipped in pig shit if she was just going to die without taking some of those assholes with her.

Even though every inch she moved felt like she was tearing herself apart, she forced herself to rise up in the old convertible. Even though her arms felt like someone had wrenched them out of their sockets, she steadied her gun as best she could and started shooting.

As the spray of bullets began finding their way into her body, she was surprised to find they didn't hurt nearly as bad as they should have. The shot in her leg from Wydell had felt much worse than this, that had been white heat, sering into her, almost blinding her with the pain. This barrage of bullets felt no more annoying than the sting of a few horseflies.

_Mama, don't you worry_, she thought as she continued to fire. _Your little angel will be with you real soon._

According to all of the movies and the one book Spaulding had read, when you were about to die, your life was supposed to flash before your eyes. Every single event, from birth to this very moment was supposed to rush past you, lightning quick, so you could review the whole thing. Why this was supposed to happen, he didn't know, but he'd heard it, been told it, so many times that he seriously believed.

Since it was inevitable now that he was going to die, he almost looked forward to the rerun of his life. Yeah, lately life had been a total bitch, but all things considering, life had been pretty fucking sweet to him, seeing it all over again would be a nice reward for having survived as long as he had. Sadly, the whole "Life before your eyes" thing turned out to be total bullshit. His entire life didn't flash before his eyes, damn it, only one incident decided to replay itself. An incident from less than a week ago, and not exactly one of the highlights of his life.

He'd been hurrying to get to his daughter and Otis. (Figures, Otis, that candy ass motherfucker had to be one of the ones who survived. If _he_ could have chosen, it would have been Rufus. Strong guy, not overly chatty and not trying all the time to play god damned leader of the motherfucking pack.) Because fate always had to stick her nose into everything, the day everything had to up and go to hell on them, would have to be the day he was going to gas up the truck when he got to his station.

In the panic of running away, he'd forgotten about the nearly empty gas tank until the truck had sputtered and started dying. Luck though, seemed to be with him, because he was near enough to a convenient store where a woman and a young boy were getting into their car.

He'd tried real nice to get the woman to give him the car, told her all good and friendly that he needed it, yet also made sure to temper his voice with enough seriousness that she'd understand if she didn't give him the car, he would have to get pissed and do the Seriously-Fuck-You-Up dance on her. Sad for him, this woman was about as sharp as a marshmallow, because she thought he was _joking_. A little bit of persuasion, in the form of a good strong smack upside the head changed her mind pretty quick as she found herself taking an instant, unplanned dust nap.

Caught up in the delicate negotiations of getting the car from the dumb bitch, Cutter had clean forgot about the kid, till he climbed into the car and saw the little crotch rat sitting shotgun, terror written all over his disgustingly cute little mug. He figured it was terror that kept the kid glued to the seat, or else the kid was as gray mater gifted as his mom had been. Cutter hoped it was terror. The world really didn't need more stupid people.

He hadn't wanted to kill the kid. Killing adults never bothered him, he rather enjoyed it, but killing kids was another matter. Kids just died too easily, it was much better to wait until they were old enough to be a challenge. But, he wanted to get the kid out of the car.

Since his mother had been such a drag, Spaulding felt it was his right to have a little fun with the little ankle biter

"Whatsa matter kid?" he'd hollered. "Don't you like clowns?" When the brat had shook his head, indicating that clowns were far from his favorite thing, Spaulding really let the abuse fly. "Aww, don't we make you laugh? Aren't we fuckin' _funny_?"

He ended up telling the kid that someday he would return and if the kid couldn't give him a good reason for not liking clowns, he (Spaulding) would kill him and his whole family. The kid had gone flying from the car, scared for his life. Yet, much to Spaulding's amusement, he noticed that he remembered to shut the door. Kid's mother was so stupid she'd argue with a killer clown over taking her car, yet she managed to drill into the kid's head that when he left the car, no matter what was going on, he'd better close the door behind him.

As Spaulding speed off, he figured that kid would never find clowns funny again. But now, as the bullets were flying, and he was dying, he wondered what the kid would do if he saw this?

As if God was answering some weird prayer, suddenly the kid really _was_ there, standing in the middle of the road, less than 100 feet from the car. Same blond hair, same stupid blue shirt. He was holding something in his hands, that looked to Spaulding like one of those brightly colored plastic squirt guns. "You were right, Captain Spaulding!" the kid yelled, his voice carrying over the the rest of the noise. "Clowns _are_ funny and right now, you're a fucking _riot_." As he yelled out his retraction and appreciation for Spaulding's latest entertainment abilities, he started firing off the squirt gun, shooting Spaulding with stream after stream of warm water.

Then, the road seemed to shimmer, as roads can do on hot summer days, when the sun bakes the tar. As it waved and rippled, the squirt gun begin changing from snot green colored plastic to dark green, then finally to gray metal. The kid himself began to change too, getting taller, his clothes turning from blue jeans and blue shirt, to brown pants and shirt. His hair went from blond to black and his eyes began disappearing behind orange lensed sunglasses.

The only thing that didn't seem to change was what the gun was shooting. Spaulding could still feel streams of warm, well, almost hot water, rolling running over him, down his face, down his chest, everywhere. Puzzled, he looked down at himself. That was when he realized that the gun was shooting bullets. The streams of warm water were really blood.

_Jesus, Mary, and Motherfucking Joseph, this death stuff rots motherfucking ass. _


	2. Chapter Two Deliver Us To Evil

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to pay to read it.

**Paving The Road**  
_By Darqstar_

Chapter Two  
**_Deliver Us To Evil_**

All that could be seen was white. Bright, brilliant, all encompassing _white_. No, this was even whiter than white. If white itself was capable of creating its own form of white, this is what it would look like. White so bright and brilliant that it burned your eyes, burned into your soul. White so powerful you not only saw it, you smelled it and tasted it too. You could even _hear _ it. White so damned white you would either want to cry at the sheer white beauty of it, or find out what in the hell was making all this white and beat the everlovin' _shit_ out of it.

Otis fell in the second group.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, trying to figure out what was going on. One minute it was the smell of gunpowder, the metallic taste of blood, the sound of gunfire, the red of pain, anger, and determination filling his vision. All that good stuff. Now every single sense was been bombarded by this beautiful, puke inducing _white_.

"A-are we in a hospital?" Baby spoke, her voice softly hushed almost as if in awe.

"Nah," Otis squinted and raised his to his forehead as further protection against the on slaughter of white. He hadn't even realized his half sister was next to him until she spoke. "Hospitals aren't this white."

"Not to mention, we ain't feeling any pain," Spaulding said. "At least I'm not. Ain't no drugs out there that are this powerful, considering what we've been through."

Otis didn't even try to look over to see either Baby or Spaulding. He had this feeling in the pit of his gut, if he did, they'd be all glowing with this white crap, it would be pouring out of their noses, their mouths, their ears, and every other orifice, including their assholes, just bleeding out all this glowing whiter than white shit. And, even though he couldn't see it, he had a feeling he'd look the same way to them. "Nah, we ain't in the hospital," he repeated. "Not only ain't hospitals this white, but they also ain't this quiet."

"We're standing too," Baby murmured quietly, more as if making observations out loud rather than trying to have a conversation. "After that, if we _did_ live, we sure as hell wouldn't be standing."

"So, this is death," Spaulding muttered. "Not quite what I thought it would be."

Otis rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "It's the tunnel."

"The what?" both Spaulding and Baby asked in unison.

"The _tunnel_," Otis repeated.

"What tunnel?" Spaulding asked, sounding slightly exasperated as if it was a real itch on his ass to have to ask Otis for further clarification.

Well, if Spaulding could play the pissy game, so could he. In a voice that sounded equally annoyed, Otis spoke. "The _tunnel_ you jackass. The. Fucking. White. Motherfucking _Tunnel_. The crap people talk 'bout when they're dying. C'mon Cutter you ain't _that_ slow. You've killed enough people to have had at least one or two of 'em start babbling 'bout the tunnel with all the white light and all that happy horse shit."

"Oh yeah," Spaulding said. While the man had a body count to his name as high, if not higher than Otis', he was more likely to bring death to his victims swiftly. Otis on the other hand, got a big kick out of making death a slow, painful thing when he had the time. "The tunnel of light. Ain't that only supposed to happen if you're going to heaven?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Otis said. "It wasn't my job to chose a destination for the rabbits, just to send them on their merry fucking way."

Baby sighed, clearly expressing her weariness with the constant bickering that seemed to go on with her half brother and her father. "Well, aren't we supposed to follow this and see where it goes?"

"Well..." Otis's voice trailed off as he looked behind him. If all the bullshit he'd heard was correct, if he saw black behind them, that would mean they were alive and could maybe go back to their bodies. All he could see was more of the white. He had a feeling that if they walked backwards, forwards, or sideways, they'd end up in the same place, wherever that was. "Yeah, I guess we're supposed to walk."

"Then let's get started," Baby headed forward, not even looking to see if she were being followed.

She was indeed all covered and glowing with the white shit, just as Otis had expected. The only thing was that it wasn't coming out of specific areas, it was all surrounding, all encompassing, as if it was leaking out of every single pore. She wasn't even wearing the same clothing she had been when they'd been killed either. Now she had some huge, white, luminous gown that flowed around her, like Mama Cass' satin bathrobe. Otis looked down at himself and was not completely unsurprised to discover he was wearing a similar outfit. _Shit-fuck-shit, I am not wearing this fucking shit for all eternity. I refuse to let death turn me into a fucking pansy-ass motherfucker. _

How long the three of them walked, none of them would be able to say. In the tunnel of the white, time seemed almost to bend upon itself. They might have walked for mere seconds or for entire days. Everything surrounding them was the same, just the brilliant whiteness. They grew neither tired nor bored when they walked, yet at times it seemed as if they'd been walking forever, and other times it would feel like only seconds had passed. Then, almost instantly, the brilliant whiteness they'd been wallowing in, seemed to fade out. They became aware that there were apparently, walls on either side of them, a floor under their feet. The tunnel was had become white hallway and at the end of this hallway there was a door.

Without saying a word to each other, the three of them hurried towards the door. It was a tall, double door, with a bar that needed to be pushed to open it. The doors were white and the push bar to open them was white. In the center of the doors, in bright gold flowing letters was written:

_T'was grace that brought me safe thus far_

_And grace shall lead me home_

Below, in smaller, less fancy, silver letters was printed:

_All who believe and deserve are welcome_

A horrible idea slithered its way into Otis' mind: Maybe Hell wasn't the place of fire, brimstone, endless suffering and horror the preachers claimed it to be. Maybe instead, Hell was what you'd hate it to be the most. In his case then, his version Hell could very likely be what most people would consider _Heaven_. He had this really bad feeling that he was going to open those doors and enter a room full of sunshine, blue skies, flowers, bunnies, kittens, and happy people running around saying things like, "I wuve you!" and calling each other by pet names like "Lamb chop" and "Snugglebutt." And to _really_ drive the point home, all of these fuckers would be immortal. Otis could try to fuck them up till the cows came home, but they'd just bleed cherry pie filling and as their skin peeled away, underneath would be cotton candy and bubble gum. Shoot them in the head and as their cherry pie blood splattered on the ground, flowers would instantly spring up. Everyone would be wearing white fucking socks with Donald Duck on one side and Mickey Mouse on the other.

The vision of this place of wretched glee and happiness for everyone but him, caused Otis to hesitate. Maybe an eternity spent surrounded by possibly radioactive white shit wasn't so bad after all.

"Wow," Baby sounded merely surprised as she read the words on the door. "This seems an awful lot like Heaven. Never thought we'd end up here. Maybe God isn't the pussy I always thought he was."

"Or the devil is a god damned clown, having one over on us," Otis muttered.

"Oh that's right, don't ever let a chance pass to toss around a few insults about clowns, ass wad" Spaulding complained.

"Don't make me regret I _gave_ you the shotgun instead of shooting you in the fucking head with it, Daisy," Otis growled. Now he knew of one eternity that would be worse than the cherry pie people with the fucked up socks, and that was an eternity spent in this hallway with Spaulding harping on him all the time. With that mental image firmly planted in his head, Otis found that the door in front of him didn't look very threatening anymore. He put his hands firmly on the bar and pushed it down. There was a clicking noise and he was able to push both doors open.

As the doors swung open, the previous brilliant white they'd been surrounded in, seemed to slam out in full force. Behind the brilliant white were the sounds of the most angelic voices anyone had ever heard singing "All Things Bright And Beautiful" to the accompaniment of harps. The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls wafted out.

"Oh, _what_ the _fuck?_" Otis snapped as he stomped through the door. If indeed this was rabbit heaven, might as well find out as soon as possible.

The moment all three of them had cross the threshold the white disappeared, taking with it the sweet smell of cinnamon and the heavenly choir, harps and all. Instead, they found themselves in a small room. The walls were a fading, industrial green and the floor was made of alternating pink and white tiles that had been washed and waxed so often that instead of looking clean, they looked dull and worn. No trace of the scent of cinnamon rolls remained, instead the air smelled of cheap disinfectant. The luminous white robes they'd all been wearing disappeared as well, and they were instead all wearing brilliant orange jumpsuits that Otis thought were tacky as hell, but at least better than the robes.

They weren't alone in this room though. To the right of them was a rather ordinary metal desk. Standing behind this desk, looking at them with an expression of minor disappointment, was the devil.

Much to Otis' surprise, the devil was female and breathtakingly beautiful. The sharp, quick, whistle of appreciation from Spaulding let Otis know he wasn't the only one who was impressed with the devil's physical attributes.

Her skin was the color of really high quality milk chocolate, her hair the color of black licorices and just as shiny. Her eyes were golden cats eyes. Her teeth were as white as marshmallow fluff, small, but dangerously pointed. Otis was aware he was comparing her a lot to food, but then again, with a woman like this, it was only natural you'd think of food. She certainly looked good enough to eat in more ways than one. Even the shiny black horns that sprouted from her forehead looked sexy on her. The rest of her was just as delightful as her face, large, curvy breasts, narrow waist, swelling hips and probably a perfectly rounded ass, if she decided to turn and show it to them. Though part of her legs were hidden by the desk, the parts that did show were sensational, the type of legs that you were meant to be wrapped tightly around a man's waist or neck.

Otis looked her over slowly, enjoying the view immensely Perhaps it was disrespectful to the devil, but he couldn't help but to picture her dead, tied to his bed, and his to do with whatever he pleased.

He'd had plenty of women in his life, both alive and dead and he found he liked them dead better. Live women could _such_ a bitch. All they did was scream and cry annoying things like, "Please don't rape me!" "Help!" "Stop, you're hurting me!" and his least favorite, "If I give you what you want, will you let me live?" Like it was some fucking pussy version of "Let's Make A Deal," where they could stop him. If he found himself a willing partner, they were just as vocal, but instead of the pleading, he'd end up having someone giving him fucking _instructions._ "Harder, harder, fuck me harder!" or, "A little lower and to the left... No, more to the left.. MY left, not YOUR left," like they were some fucking drill Sargent and this was calisthenics time. Dead women didn't struggle or talk. They just did what a good fuck toy was supposed to do, be quiet and _take_ it.

Although, to give the devil her due, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave her alive for a few days. Anyone who looked as delicious as her might well end up being worth the tears or the demands.

"Well," the devil said, staring at them, a look of disappointment flashing in her eyes. "Aren't _you_ the daily spoilsports."

She had a deep, sexy, whiskey and Winston's voice that made even her negative remark sound complimentary and sexy as hell.

The sexy voice seemed to only work on men, because Baby not only wasn't charmed, but was actually annoyed, as Otis could tell by the way she snapped back. "What the hell that supposed to mean?"

"Now darlin'," Spaulding put his hand on Baby's shoulder, not taking his eyes off the devil as if he were a weasel staring at the last hen in the chicken coop. "Maybe you should be a little nicer."

"Fuck that!" Baby snapped. "Dumb bitch just insulted us, she'd better explain herself!"

The devil laughed, waving her hand making it clear that in her mind, Baby was no more than an annoying fly she was forced to deal with. "Most people freak out when they come through the door and realize they aren't in Heaven; it's the most fun I have working the desk." She sat down in the chair and heaved a sigh. "This job _really_ sucks."

"Then do something else," Spaulding suggested. "Damn it, woman, you're the devil, can't you do whatever the hell you want?"

She laughed again, shaking her head. "I'm not the devil. I'm not even in the upper echelon. I'm just a minor demon, assigned to this dreary post, because I pissed off Azazel." She leaned forward, over the desk, giving all of them a terrific shot of her cleavage, which was beautifully displayed under her body hugging red dress. "My name is Naamah and messing with the latest victims is the only way I get to have a little fun and the three of you had to wreck it. You're supposed to be all sad and weepy now that you realize that no, you will not be going to Heaven." She sighed, allowing a very pretty pout to play across her lips.

Standing beside her, Otis could feel Baby tensing up, getting ready to strike out at Naamah. He put his hand on her shoulder, and hurried to speak before she took matters in her own hands and gave Naamah more than a small piece of her mind. Otis loved to watch her fuck with people, but he had a feeling that this demoness might have a few tricks up her sleeve that none of them had ever seen before. No sense in tipping the apple cart before they knew where the god damed orchard was. "This is Hell? Ain't quite what I was expecting."

"No, of course not." Naamah both shook her head and rolled her eyes indicating that Otis was being stupid and sat down in the chair. "This is just _processing_."

"How the hell was I supposed to know that?" Otis snapped. "Never been to hell before."

"Well, if this is processing, let's get started," Spaulding suggested, still gaping at Naamah as if he might actually stand a ghost of a chance with her. "What do you need to know?"

"Absolutely nothing, Jackass." Naamah leaned back in her chair and began to examine one of her long, red, perfectly manicured nail. "I'm just the information girl. Processing starts by standing in line Q."

"Line Q?" Otis looked around and saw nothing that might even remotely resemble any line, never mind a line Q. The room was exactly as it had been when they walked in. "Don't see no god damned line Q."

Naamah continued to study her nail for another three seconds as if she hadn't heard him. When Otis was just about to repeat himself, she raise the hand with the inspected nail and snapped her fingers once, with a sharp flick of the wrist.

The wall behind Naamah disappeared and suddenly the room they were in was much larger and extremely crowded room. Along the far back wall were counters with clerks behind them, as you might find in a bank. Each window was labeled with a letter or group of letters, from A to ZZZZ.

Massive numbers of people were waiting in line at each window. On the sides of the rooms there were counters bolted to the walls, complete with pens bolted to the counters. Other people were lined up at the counters and appeared to be filling out page after page of forms.

Spaulding stared at the new addition to their room, a look of shock on his face. "Holy mother of Christ, it looks like the fucking DMV!"

Naamah frowned. "You mean the DMV looks like this." She had pulled a small bottle of nail polish out from her desk and was painting her nails with slow, deliberate strokes. "Our processing center was here long before the DVM ever existed. And the boss would _really _like to know who it was that told the breathers about it."

"Breathers?" Otis asked.

"Breathers." Naamah repeated. "People who are still alive, and need to _breathe_ to survive. Get it?" She licked her lips with a red, snake like tongue as she put the finishing strokes on the nail of her pinkie. "You think the DVM came to be by accident? Of course not, it was _planned_ to be a huge pain in the ass. Someone thought it would be a brilliant idea to give people a taste of Hell before they got here. Either way, what's done is done and can't be undone, as my great grandfather to the power of ten or something used to tell me." She alternated between waving her freshly painted nails back and forth, and blowing on them. A few times of this, and she looked over at them. "Go on with you now, get along to processing. Sooner you start, sooner you'll be over and all that stuff."

Otis glared at her. Beautiful or not, she didn't have the right to continue to treat them all like they were stupid scum. They weren't ordinary sinners, not the three of them, they'd been doing the devil's work for a long time, and doing it with enthusiasm that would be hard for anyone else to match. Surely, the devil must have heard of them by now. And if the devil had heard of them, then Naamah most likely had too. "Listen, bitch, do you know who I am?"

Naamah rolled her eyes. "That's not the question here. The question is, do I give a flying fuck in a rolling donut who you are? And the answer to that is the same as to your question. No." Her eyes stopped their sarcastic rolling and fixed onto him. Instead of the golden cat eyes she'd been sporting, now they were literally twin pits of fire. "Now, why don't you get into line Q and leave me the hell alone, 'kay?"

Unable to stop himself, Otis started to lunge forward, but was stopped by Spaulding's hand on his shoulder. "She ain't worth you going off half cocked, boy. Give it a rest!"

Otis knew he was right, but was loathed to admit it. He pushed Spaulding's hand off his shoulder and redirected his anger to him, as a way of saving face. "Don't touch me again, Jackass." With that, he stormed off towards the processing center.

Baby and Spaulding looked at each other, shrugged and followed behind him.


	3. Knee Deep In The Red Tape

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one has been paid or will have to pay to read it.

_Chapter Three_

**Knee Deep In the Red Tape**

It didn't take long for the three of them to discover the processing center was in truth, more whacked than the DMV. While they were able to find line Q fairly easily, as they were standing there, waiting, they could see people being handed piles of forms and walking away at a fast rate, yet the line barely seemed to move at all.

"This fucking sucks," Baby fumed, getting more and more bored by the minute. "Why do we have to stand in this dumb old line anyway?"

"Like _I'm _fucking pleased about this?" Otis shot back.

"God, you are _such_ an asshole," Baby complained.

"And you're_ such_ a fucking bitch." Otis mimiced her voice.

"Can't you just _once_ cut the kid some slack?" Spaulding snapped. "She don't deserve you climbing down her throat all the goddamned time."

"Fuck off, Clownman."

"Gonna _make_ me, paste face?"

"Maybe I fucking will."

"Better have a fucking army to back you up, or it'll just end with my boot up your ass!"

"Oh, that's right, the two of you fight like a couple of kids." Baby glared at the two of them. "Fuck! you two can't get along for ten goddamned seconds, can you?"

People in the room were starting to look over at the three of them, but they didn't seem to notice. They were family, and families always seemed to find something to argue about, it didn't really _mean_ anything. It also helped to pass the time, which gave them no motivation to stop.

Just as it looked as if Spaulding and Otis were about to stop snapping at each other, and start getting physical, they reached the front of the line. Behind the counter was a ghostly white looking demon who cleared his throat. "Are you three going to fight all day, or do you want your forms?"

"We'll take the forms," Spaulding said.

"A wise choice," the demon said, handing the three of them enormous stacks of paper. "When you're finished filling these out, take them to line A."

"What the hell are all these forms for?" Otis asked as he accepted his stack.

"These forms give you permission to stand in line A."

Otis stared at at him in disbelief. "You wanna _repeat_ that, Casper?"

"No, not really," The demon's expression indicated displeasure. "And my name is not Casper. And don't even ask me what it is, because I'm not telling you. I don't have to tell my name to the likes of _you_."

_Ker-ist, who'da thought demons could be such sensitive bastards_, Otis thought. He glared at the white figure, thinking that if Casper the Demon was that sensitive, he, Otis, could probably intimidate him.

"What happens when we get through the A line?" Baby asked, pretending not to notice the "show down" between the demon and Otis.

"You'll ether get form 786.3 B, or 786.3 C, depending on how good your penmanship is on the Q-4760's, which are the forms I just gave you."

"And what happens when we fill out the 786.3 forms?" Spaulding asked.

"You'll have to stand in either the B line or the C line," the demon said. As Otis opened his mouth to speak, he raised his hand, cutting him off. "Don't ask me to explain what happens in line B or C. I'm just a clerk for the Q line, I don't know what the any lines besides this line and the A line are for."

"What happens if we decide not to fill out the goddamned forms?" Otis asked, still attempting to brow beat the demon.

"We send you to Asmodeus and his minions who will anal rape you and your friends for the next thousand years, give or take a hundred or so." The demon smiled slightly, revealing teeth that looked as if moss were growing on them. "Then, you'll have to come back and fill out the forms anyway."

"You're fucking kidding, right?" Spaulding shook his head.

"No, I'm not," The demon said. "But, if you want to call my bluff, please, feel free. We haven't had someone object to the forms since the breathers discovered writing, and Asmodeus and his minions are getting quite tense. He'd love to have three ass slaves to enjoy for a bit."

"Well, I guess Asmodeus is going to be disappointed," Baby said, as she turned from the demon. "C'mon guys, the sooner we fill these forms out, the sooner we'll get to the next batch."

"That's the spirit," The demon said, clearly not a victim of Otis' intimidation attempts. "It was completely _not_ my pleasure to serve you, have a rotten eternity."

They didn't even bother to answer, but went directly to where the counters were. They had to wait quite awhile before they were even able to get up to the counters. They would have started using each other's backs to work on the forms, but the only pens were the ones chained to the counters and they wouldn't reach far enough.

Standing next to Spaulding was short, skinny, older man, struggling to fill out his paperwork. There was something familiar about the guy, something he couldn't place for a moment, then it hit him. "Albert Fish?"

The man turned and looked at him. "Yes? Do we know each other?"

"No," Spaulding said. "We've never met, but I've heard all about you. Hell, one of the exibits in my museum of 'mayhem is all 'bout you, you're famous!"

"I am?" The man looked puzzled as if he couldn't understand at all, why he would be remembered after he was gone.

"Shit, yeah," Cutter said. "But hell, you died in 1936, didn't you?"

Mr. Fish nodded, as he began gathering up the forms he'd been filling out. "What year did you die?" he asked.

"1978."

The old man sighed. "These forms and these lines are so _difficult_." He started jabbing at his palm with one of the chained pens, frowning when he realized the pens weren't able to cause any real damage. "I'm about to get into line DDDD, so I'm almost to the end. Uhm, would you happen to have any pins on you?" He looked up at Spaulding, with a hopeful expression on his face.

"Huh?" Spaulding looked puzzled for a moment, then shot the old man a disgusted look. "Fuck no, I don't have any pins, needles or any other shit for you to go sticking in your groin or anywhere else on your damned body Sweet Baby Jesus on a painted pony, it's one thing to kill people and eat 'em, that's just fine, but that needle poking shit is just fucking _sick._"

"I know," Albert Fish said with a sigh. "But it hurts so good." Hugging his forms to his frail chest, he shuffled off.

"You'd think bein' dead would fix the man's head a bit," Spaulding muttered as he turned his attention to the forms.

"Well, as Mama always said, there are a lot of sick, twisted, fucks out there," Baby murmered as she studied her forms.

Otis had completely ignored the whole Albert Fish exchange in favorof working on the forms. There was a space up at the top to write your name, which Otis did, but the rest of the form was different. It wasn't really a form, it was more like one of those mumbo-jumbo, head shrinker, "theres no right or wrong answer, just tell us how you feel" tests.

_Section One._

_Circle the most appropriate answer to the questions below._

_1: Children are _

_a: The only hope for the future of mankind_

_b: Innocent little dears _

_c: Annoying at best_

_d: Delicious with hot sauce. _

_2: Cake is to frosting, as sex is to _

_a: Love_

_b: Body fluids_

_c: Reproduction_

_d: Killing_

_Don't tell me this is gonna be one of those trick quizzes where ever answer is D, _Otis wondered.

Baby had made it through the first page, but on the second page, she started tapping her pen. "This makes no sense!"

"What?" Otis asked.

"Listen to this: '_The human subject, as processed through a vehicle must first be turned into an image by means of it's own _' How do I pick an anwer to that? It's just nonsense."

"Does one of those letters below have 'serial logic' next to it?" Otis asked.

Baby looked. "Yeah, it's here. That's the answer?"

Otis nodded. "Use your head, Baby, that's an easy one."

"Shit, I never would have figure that out," Spaulding said. "Okay, if you're so good at this, maybe you can answer this one for me. '_The effort to escape the mapping of form and beauty into a representation of exercised ghosts, by way of fluid visibility of boundries, eroded into direct participation of a work of art, is in fact a substitite for '_ Got a snappy answer to that one?"

Otis shook his head and rolled his eyes. "The revolution, you jackass."

Spaulding looked at the paper. "Sonofabitch, that's one of the answers! I'm starting to wonder if you wrote this test."

Otis alternated his gaze between one than the other for a few second, wondering how come they could be so thick at times. Sure, most people often didn't understand the true ways of the world as he did, which was why he had learned to speak and even act, more like the cattle when he had to. But for his sister and stepfather? People who he knew weren't rabbits or cattle, not able to understand these simple things? He shook his head and went back to his test.

Not all the questions on the form were multiple choice. There were 50 pages or so of "Yes or No" questions too. And after that, were some math problems and after that were essay questions. By the time Otis came to the essay questions, he was getting really tired of this. He started answering the essay questions with the same answer, "Wouldn't you like to know, fuckhead." _What are they going to do,_ he thought, _not like they can kill me, right? _

While time seemed to move weirdly in the processing center, as it had in the hall, by the time all three of them were done with their first batch of forms, they knew more than a few minutes had passed. Otis finished his forms first and told them he'd go and stand in line. When Spaulding and Baby finished, the joined him. This really seemed to annoy the people who'd come to stand in line behind Otis and there was some griping about that. Otis turned around and stared that the cronic whiners. They looked at Otis and decided it was time to stop whining. This pleased Otis, but didn't surprise him. _I fear no one in the valley of the shadow of death, because there's no meaner motherfucker in the valley than me. _

To amuse themselves while waiting in yet another ridiculously long line, they started pointing to people in other lines and guessing how they died. "That guy?" Baby said, pointing to a tall, skinny guy with a horrible case of acne. "Paid some hooker to blow him. When he came, he went. Heart exploded."

Otis sniggered, imagining that, but shook his head. "Nah, he looks like the type of idiot who got too curious. Probably tried to stick his dick in the toaster or something."

"Heard about a guy who electrocuted himself at the Pussy Liquors," Spaulding said. "He tried to jerk off into the coin slot on those peep show movies and electrocuted himself."

"Yeah, heard about that," Otis said. "That's why they got them signs now that warn you not to do that."

"That's just sick!" Baby's nose wrinkled in disgust.

Spaulding laughed. "I seen those signs. 'Do Not Ejaculate Into Coin Slots For Fear Of Electrocution.' Crack me up, what motherfucker can fit it in a slot meant for a quarter?"

"Some bugfucker," Baby said.

"Not me," Otis said. He pointed to a girl wearing a leather dominatrix outfit and holding a whip. "She died at a Tupperware party."

Baby burst into her high pitched, cackling laughter. "What do you suppose killed her, Otis?"

Otis thought. "The hostess poisoned the jello salad."

Spaulding snorted. "She didn't have to poison it. That jello shit is poison in the box anyway. They make that shit outa horses hooves. Don't wash 'em either before they use 'em."

Again, Baby's nose wrinkled in disgust and added a shudder to it. Baby liked horses. "That's not true!"

"Swear to God!" Spaulding said.

A sudden silence went over the entire room and every clerk behind the counter stared at them coldly.

"I get the feelin' God ain't the person to talk 'bout here," Otis said.

"Fuck 'em, they can't deal," Spaulding said. "Dumbasses."

As expected, the line moved extremely slowly. The only advantage is that being dead, they didn't get hungry or tired. The continued to amuse themselves by insulting everyone else who was waiting too, until they finally got up front. This time the demon behind the counter was a yellow green color that reminded Otis of snot.

"Do you have your forms?" the demon asked.

_Great, the fucker has to have a nasily voice too. _Otis thought as the three of them handed over their forms.

The demon took them and started to automatically hand them another stack of forms, then stopped abruptly. Otis's form was on the top. He read the name. Then he thumbed through and read the other two names. He looked at them, then back at the papers. Back to them, back to the papers. Them, papers, them, papers, over and over again.

"Uh, is somethin' wrong?" Spaulding finally asked.

"Are these..." the Demon started to ask, then his voice trailed off. He frowned at the papers and tried again. "These are yours, and these are your names?" He pointed to the tops of the forms, where the names were written.

"Well, duh!" Spaulding rolled his eyes. "Of course it's us. Why would we lie?"

"Because this is Hell," the demon said, also rolling his eyes. "People who come here aren't known for their honesty."

"You wouldn't know sarcasm if it bit you on your slimy snot colored ass," Otis snapped. "Yes, it's us."

"So, you're Otis B. Driftwood, you're Captain Spaulding, and you're Baby Firefly?" The demon pointed to each one of them in turn.

"Yyyyeeeessss," Otis dragged out the word for several seconds. "Is there a point to this, or are you just tryin' t'piss me off? Cause if it's the second, you're _really_ doing a good job."

"Oh dear. It's finally happened." The demon studied the forms shaking his head.

"What finally happened?" Baby asked.

The Demon ignored them for a few seconds, looking at the tops of all the forms as if they would change at his stare. "Okay, you three are going to have to go sit on the bench." He pointed behind them.

The three of them looked in the direction his finger was pointing. All they saw for a moment, were the lines and the souls waiting. No bench. Then, there was a brief shimmer and suddenly there was an uncomfortable looking wooden bench. "Uh, why?" Spaulding asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," the demon said. "Just, please, go sit on the bench and wait."

"For what?" Otis asked.

"Again," the demon said, "you'll find out soon enough."


	4. The Devils Rejects

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one has been paid or will have to pay to read it.

_Chapter Four_

**The Devil's Rejects**

Oddly enough, the Devil wasn't having a very good day. Some might say it that only served him right, being the devil and all, but when in Hell, wasn't he was always supposed to be having a good day?

It wasn't that everything was going to Hell in a hand basket, (pun intended) it was just one of those days where every picky thing that could happen to make the day slightly less amusing was happening. And, the Devil really didn't like that. This was his world, amusement should never be in short supply in his world, at least amusement for him. Everyone else? Well, much less important.

It started with the espresso machine being on the fritz, so his secretary was being a cranky bitch. Then, Asmodeus came in to gripe about the lack of people refusing to fill out forms in processing correctly. Started waving his dick around too, like he, the Devil, really gave a crap. After that, the Devil found the suggestion boxes were again, stuffed full of requests for air conditioning, because some of the tortured souls who were spending eternity here thought that request was a real hoot.

Now, he'd just been told that _they_ were finally here. He'd been expecting them for awhile, just not quite sure when they would get there, what with time working so strange in the tunnel of light. There were people who spent years there, then more years filling out the first set of forms. These people had managed to accomplish a lot in a relatively short time. They were vicious, sadistic, deadly, and all around nasty, but apparently not stupid. And now it was time to deal with them. He had a feeling they weren't going to like him one little bit when he was through with them. And that suited Lou just fine.

He hit the intercom, hoping his secretary had gotten over her no caffein snit and was actually doing her job. "You can send them in now," he said. Before she could answer, he took his finger off the button, cutting her off. Then, he leaned leaned back in his chair and waited for the door to open.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"The Devil will see you now."

The three of them looked up and frowned. One minute they were sitting on an ugly, orange, plastic bench, waiting for who knew what, the next they were all sitting on a burgundy leather sofa in what looked to be the reception area of an elegant office building. If this "Snap your fingers and your reality changes" crap was meant to impress them it was failing miserably. It only served to make them feel slightly queasy and quite annoyed instead. Baby just hoped this would be the last of the snap 'n' go, but she doubted it.

As they stood up, Otis gave the receptionist / secretary, another beautiful demoness, the once over. The secretary not only ignored the once over, but all three of them too. Instead she clutched a cup to her chest and mumbled about sexual favors she'd be willing to do for a cappuccino

"What the hell is cappuccino?" Spaulding asked.

"Fancy-ass high powered coffee," Otis explained. "European pussies love that shit."

"Apparently, so do fine lookin' demoness," Spaulding remarked, giving the secretary one of those I'm-mentally-undressing-you gazes. The secretary continued to fondle her coffee mug, continued not looking at any of them.

"Oh, gimme a break," Baby muttered, getting awful tired of watching her father and brother's jaw hit the floor every time someone beautiful with horns came around. She strode right past the secretary and right into the Devil's office.

Once inside the office, she stopped. "Wow," she murmured, looking around. She was really surprised to see that it was not only as nice as the receptionist area, it was nicer. Light gray carpet, a lot of highly polished cherry wood furniture, track lighting, and weird looking artwork. Otis had taught her a lot about art, including that "if it's weird looking and in a very expensive frame? Then it's probably valuable. That's how rabbits judge good artwork." Using that as a guideline, the Devil indeed had some valuable artwork.

She looked around to see the Devil, but all she saw was a very handsome man with blond hair and beautiful eyes of such a deep blue, they almost looked purple, sitting at a big desk. _Well, it's about time someone provided a little eye candy for those of us who like men! _Baby thought, as she looked him up and down. _But, I wonder where the devil the Devil is? _

"Hello, Baby," the good looking man said. "Have a seat. You both as well," he added, indicating Spaulding and Otis who had come in behind her. There were three chairs in front of his desk.

"Hi," Baby said, walking over and sitting in the middle chair. Otis took the one to her left, her daddy the one to the right. "So, where's the devil?"

The good looking man smiled. "Right here."

"Nah you ain't the devil." Baby shook her head. "Quit joking with us."

She didn't hear Otis groan, but she saw the look of amusement on the good looking man's face. "Oh, I assure you," he said. "I am the devil. Also known as Lucifer, The Prince of Demons, Satan, and – well, many other titles I'm sure you know."

"You can't be the devil!" Baby grinned, convinced this person was having one up on her and making sure he knew you had to wake up pretty early in the morning to fool Vera Ellen Firefly. "The devil is red and has horns and a tail and all that scary stuff. In fact, I don't even think this is the right office. It's too nice. The devil shouldn't have an office like this!"

The good looking man sighed, shook his head, then snapped his fingers. Suddenly he was as red as - well, as red as the devil, with black horns, and cloven hooves for feet. His office also shifted and they were on rocks in the middle of a lake of molten lava. "Is _this _better?" he asked.

Baby gasped, clutching to the rock she was sitting on, so she wouldn't slide off into the lake of fire and lava. "Wow... I guess you really are the devil!"

"Well, of course._" _The devil snapped his fingers again and everything returned to the way it was when they walked in the door. "I was once known as the Fairest Angel of them all before my brother kicked me out of his little playground."

"Brother?" Otis's brows raised. "How can God be your brother? Isn't he supposed to be like the supreme creator of all? Even you, Devil?"

"Call me Lou." A dark expression crossed the Devil's face and he scowled, "and, sure, buy into that theory. He'd _love_ you to believe that. He's so spoiled. I swear, our mother always favored him. First born child and all that stuff."

Otis and Spaulding flashed looks at each other, then turned their attention back to the devil. "Yeah, I know how that goes," Otis said. "I've got some sibs that were always favored over me. But, before I have to play therapist to your little mental hangups, would you mind telling me what the hell we're doing here?"

Lou stared at him angrily for a moment, then his expression changed to one of annoyance and he sighed. "Same old Otis, huh? You never will learn, will you?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Otis asked.

"You always were such a presumptuous little prick," Lou said, looking as if he were enjoying how pissed Otis was becoming. "Always felt you had the power over life and death."

"Well, my record proves I did," Otis snapped. "I sent a lot of people your way, you might recall."

"You sent a lot of them the way of my brother too," the Devil pointed out. "But, to answer your question; why are you here? Because you're too evil for Hell. All three of you are."

Otis, Spaulding, and Baby all stared at the Devil for several seconds as his words soaked in. Finally Spaulding spoke in a tone that echoed the disbelief of all of them. "We're too evil for Hell?"

"What, did I stutter?" The devil leaned back in his chair and pressed his finger tips together, a smug smile on his face.

"How can anyone be too evil for Hell?" Baby asked. "I mean, isn't that the point of Hell? To go there 'cause you weren't good enough for Heaven?"

"Again, more of my brother's propaganda." Lou shook his head sadly. "It's all Public Relations, you know. He's got a huge book, a major bestseller all devoted to him. He's got a monopoly on the religions of the world. Even if they don't believe in the Christian version of him, as long as they believe in a "Good" and "Just" supreme being they're his. What do _I _have? Nothing. Oh sure, there's the Church of Satan, but really, do you see branches of that church on every corner? No. And it doesn't exactly have a sterling reputation, does it? And look at the movies that come out about me: The Omen, great, I was hoping to have a son some day, but I don't dare now. Rosemary's Baby, yeah, like it does my reputation to be known as someone who rapes innocent women. The Exorcist, like I have nothing better to do then to pick on sweet little girls. The Devil In Miss. Jones -" (1)

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with you in that movie," Spaulding interrupted. "That's one of the best movies I've ever seen! A classic."

Lou stared at him and drew in a big, sighing breath. "Maybe _you_ think so, but ask the average person and they'll say it's filth, which, of course, puts _me_ in a bad light."

The Devil sat forward in his chair, leaning over the desk. "I'm really not as bad as you might think. I like the good things in life. I love comfort, sex, fine wine, beautiful people, silk pajamas, good food, all the things that make people enjoy life. You'd think I'd be the one everyone would flock around, but no, my brother gives everyone this trip that in order to be rewarded forever, you have to live in misery while alive. And pretty much _everyone_ buys it! And I get stuck with having to handle 'bad' people, while he gets all the 'good' ones. Really unfair."

"Well, if your supposed to handle all the bad ones, then whats the problem with us?" Otis asked. "We're certainly bad."

"Look, I have standards you know." Lou sniffed indignantly. "And you three crossed them. Honestly." He looked over at Otis. "And _you_ were the worst. 'I am the devil, and I'm here to do the devil's work,'" he mimicked Otis, then glared at him, "Who the hell told you to speak for me?"

For the first time in as long as Baby could remember, Otis looked taken aback. "Wait a moment - you're upset because I was _helping_ you?"

"You weren't trying to help me," Lou said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You were doing what you always did all your life, which was pretty much whatever the hell you wanted. And even if for one moment, you believed you were doing _my_ work, did you ever think for one moment that I didn't want your help? That I was able to do my job without your help?" Not really wanting and answer, the devil began answering the questions himself, looking sterner and angrier with each word. "Of course not. You're the great Otis B. Driftwood, you think you're the Devil among men and you do whatever you want, never worrying about the consequences. Well, guess what, there are consequences You've racked up a hell of a bill with me, you and your little cohorts here. And now is the time to pay the bill." He finished his speech with a wisp of fire shooting out of his nostrils.

The three stared at Lou for a long time before finally Spaulding broke the silence. "So, you're saying we really _are_ The Devil's Rejects?"

"Damned straight you are!" the Devil snapped. "Do you think the media came up with that name themselves? No one in the media is capable of coming up with that good of a tag line It was me, _ I_ whispered it into their ears. Because it's true. You _are_ The Devil's Rejects. You're too evil to go to Hell."

"Uh, well then what's going to happen to us?" Baby cautiously asked. "I mean, we're dead. If we're too evil for Hell, then I'm sure we're too evil for Heaven, right?"

"Very true," Lou said. "Which is why I'm going to have to send you back to earth to do enough good to redeem yourselves so you can return here."

Again, The Devil's Rejects stared at Lou in disbelief. Lou stared back, scowling. Finally, Otis broke the silence. "So, let me get this straight," he began, "we're too evil for Hell, so you're sending us back to our lives to do good? That 'bout right?"

The devil nodded. "Yes. You're an arrogant dick, but you've never been stupid, Otis. You've figured it out."

"All but one part," Otis admitted, letting the arrogant dick insult slide.

"What's that?"

"Why in the hell should we do good? I mean fuck it, you're going to send us back to earth, wow, what a punishment! Go back to being alive and havin' good times, or do a bunch of goody two shoes stuff and be rewarded by Hell." Otis shook his head. "I ain't stupid, but you aren't exactly giving us a hell of a lot of incentive to do good."

"Yes I am," Lou disagreed. "Until you do enough good to earn your way into Hell, you can't die."

"Oooh, that's a burden." Spaulding tried not to sneer, but couldn't help it. "If we don't do good, we get to live forever. Wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"You don't," the Devil assured them. "Because if you think I'm going to give you immortal bodies? Think again. I mean, I'll give you back your bodies as they were before Wydell and those other officers turned them into Swiss cheese. I'm willing to do that much. But beyond that? All bets are off. If you get fatally wounded, you won't exactly 'die' but you won't be alive either. Once you're no longer 'alive,' any injuries you get won't heal. So, if someone cuts you open? You'll always have a big open gash. Have a fingernail fall off? It will never grow back. Get a cut on your eye? It's there forever. Have someone mutilate your genitalia -"

"I think we get the point," Baby interrupted. "But still, what's to stop us from like walking into fire or leaping into a vat of acid once our bodies wear out? We'll just end up dead with no after life. Not a big deal."

"It doesn't work like that," Lou said. "You will always be aware. Even if all that is left of you are atoms, those atoms will have your awareness. And the pain of how your body was destroyed? You'll feel that for all eternity. Try doing good when all you are is dust floating about the cosmos."

The three of them again looked at each other. _We're making a bad habit of staring at each other like idiots,_ Baby thought. She turned to the Devil. "Is it really that much worse? Floating around in the cosmos in pain or being in Hell? Isn't Hell supposed to be eternal suffering and pain?"

"Trust me, being dust that feels the pain of how you finally were destroyed all the time is much worse than Hell." Lou rolled his eyes. "As for the eternal suffering and pain? Remember, most of what you know of Hell is propaganda generated by my brother. I'm not so bad. I mean, it is Hell, it's not a cakewalk. But, it's not the eternal torturing of your soul either. Hell is a lot like prison Except we don't put you behind bars, because you can't escape."

"So how much good do we have to do?" Baby asked.

"There's no set formula for that." The Devil shook his head. "I can't say, 'well, save two orphans and kiss a nun and you're set.' It doesn't work like that. You just have to start doing good and when the time comes, I'll let you know and you can come back here."

"Well shit," Spaulding said. "What about our rep? You just go sending us back to earth and everyone's gonna be out for our blood. The media spread our mugs all over the place."

"Don't worry," Lou assured him. "Yes, people will remember that you three died. But when they see you, they won't make the connection. It'll be as if they buried three completely different looking people, at least that's what they'll remember."

"What about the picture?" Otis asked. "There are enough pictures of us around. Think folks might notice we resemble those pictures?"

"That's taken care of too," Lou said. "Trust me, no one is going to recognize you. You'll have your chances to do good."

"Yippee," Otis muttered without much enthusiasm. "I can't fuckin' _wait."_

A genuine smile spread across Lou's face. "Well, lucky for you, you don't have to." He raised his hand.

_Shit,_ Baby thought. _There he goes with the hand snapping thing. Can't anyone down here come up with something more ori-_ Before he could finish the thought, she, her father, and Otis were gone.

_End of Chapter Four_

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _

(1)Famous porno movie from the '70s.

_Author's Notes: _I can't really take credit for this idea. Before the movie came out, I read an interview with Rob Zombie who said the movie was about three people who were so evil, they'd have to do good before they could go to Hell. I thought that was the plot of the movie. Of course, that wasn't the case, but I loved the movie anyway. Still, I always wondered about that whole, "You're too evil for Hell," and so did my husband. As (what was supposed to be) a Christmas gift to him, I started writing this story. I don't know if Rob would be pleased or pissed if he saw what I was doing to his characters, but I don't know how to write this and make it deadly serious. It only seems to work in my head with some humor thrown in.

Please do not think I am insulting anyone's religious beliefs with this story. It's _fiction_. Not only that but it's fiction written by an _amateur_. I have no clue what Heaven or Hell is like.


	5. The Crime of the Century

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one has been paid or will have to pay to read it.

Chapter Five

**The Crime of the Century**

When the three of them were dropped back on earth, the "dropped" part was a bit too literal for them. It seemed like one moment Lou was raising his hand, the next they were lying flat on their backs, in a wheat field by the side of the road, feeling as if they'd fallen a great distance.

"Ke-rist!" Spaulding moaned, "my back hurts like a motherfucker."

"Tell me about it, old man." Otis tried to sit up, then changed his mind and laid back down again.

"I always thought Heaven was up and Hell was down," Baby said, sitting up. Of the three of them, she seemed least effected by how they'd gotten here. Then again, she was the youngest, and she was beautiful. Maybe Lou was a little kinder to her.

"That whole Heaven in the clouds, Hell below our feet, is metaphoric." Otis said, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to sit up. That first breath upon sitting, felt like pure fire sinking into his lungs. The second was easier. By the third, he had the hang of it again and he stopped wanting to rip out his spine just to show it who was boss. "Hell isn't in the center of the earth, or Heaven in the clouds, that's just so much bullshit."

"Yeah, but it seems weird to feel as if we've been dropped onto the ground when we were being sent back from Hell," Baby argued as sprang to her feet. "Well, no sense in laying around here like a bunch of dogs in the summer heat. Let's get going." She looked around. "There's a road over that-aways. Bet we can get a ride."

"You're right, Baby-girl," Spaulding said. "But we got ourselves one little problem here..."

"What's that?" Baby asked.

"I think I broke my fuckin' back."

While this was going on, Otis managed to get on his knees, then pull himself into a standing position. "Aw, quit yer bitchin' old man. You didn't break your back."

Otis and Baby got on either side of Spaulding. They each took an arm and pulled the clown slowly to his feet. "Yeeeow!" Spaulding cried out, both hearing and feeling his back popping and crackling. Once on his feet, he rolled his shoulders and started moving, trying to get the muscles to loosen up. Baby slipped behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. "Oh, Baby, that feel _good,"_ he closed his eyes and sighed, feeling his muscles slowly beginning to unknot themselves under her hands. "Thank you so much, Mmmm."

Otis watched this father-daughter exchange looking bored. "You done yet?" he asked Spaulding. "Or do we need to find someone to coddle your balls, too?"

"Very funny." Spaulding stared at him darkly. "Yeah, I'm up t'walkin' now."

The three of them walked out of the hayfield and over to the road. It was a two-lane, paved road which seemed to shimmer in the summer heat. They saw a road sign and walked over to read it; Jericho – 15 miles.

"Hm, this don't look like the road to Jericho Texas," Spaulding commented.

"Who's to say we're in Texas," Otis pointed out. "Lou never said he was going to send us back to Texas and I'm bettin' he didn't."

"Well, shit!" Spaulding griped. "We're gonna have t'find our way back there, then."

Clearly, the old man was missing something in all of this, and Otis found that amusing. "Why?" he asked, stringing him along.

"Because that's where my business is." Spaulding rolled his eyes in annoyance. "We gotta earn a living don't we? The business don't make much, but it'll keep a roof over our heads."

"And your just going to waltz back into Ruggsville, go to that shithole you called a business, walk in and say, 'Howdy folks. Yes, I know, I'm dead, but I was too evil for Hell, so I'm back here on borrowed time and I'd really like my business back?'" Otis snorted, enjoying showing up Cutter. "Yeah, Numbnuts, that'll work _real_ good."

Spaulding opened his mouth as if to cuss Otis, then stopped as what Otis was saying really sunk in and grabbed hold. "Shit, yeah, you're right."

"I'll bet we can't go to the house either," Baby said, wistfully. "Not that there would be much left, but it seems wrong t'be back alive and not have the house."

"Probably better we ain't in Texas anyway," Otis said. "Too many reminders, not to mention if anyone's gonna recognize us, it'll be someone in Texas. Face, it, we're just gonna have to start over. We knew it when we left the house after Wydell and his posse came for us. Nothing's really changed in that respect."

"I suppose you're right." Now it was Spaulding's turn to sound wistful. "No use in cryin' we might as well get started on this life of good deeds." He tried not to break into laughter as he thought about himself doing "good deeds." It wasn't something he'd thought about before, and it would take some getting used to.

"Yeah," Baby agreed. "So, let's hitch ourselves a ride to this Jericho and see what we can find out. At least we can get our hands on some money so we can get started."

While Otis and Spaulding hid themselves behind a gathering of scrubby bushes near the side of the road, Baby perched herself out on the shoulder and stuck her thumb out. Thankfully, the Devil had not returned them to earth wearing those orange jumpers or the lumious white robes, but in fairly normal garb. Baby was wearing a very short denim skirt with a white tube top and a denim blouse over the tube top, open in the front, and tied off just above the waist. Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, she waited.

This was not a heavily traveled road, but it didn't matter. The first car that came towards them pulled over as soon as he saw Baby's thumb sticking out. It was a guy all alone in a station wagon. Baby grinned and walked over to the car. She pretended to have trouble with the door handle, long enough for her brother and father to come running over and jump into the back seat before the guy driving the car knew what hit him. Then she opened the door and lept into the passenger's side. "Howdy, I hope you're goin' t' Jericho, cause that's where me, my Daddy, and my brother are headed."

The balding, middle aged business man looked at the two men in the back seat, then at Baby, and sighed longingly. "I- I'm heading to Jericho too," he admited, as if it were painful for him to do so.

"Well, that's certainly handy, isn't it?" Baby flashed Middle Aged Man a brilliant smile.

"Yeah." The man sighed again, resigning himself to only giving Baby a lift into town and not a romp in the sheets. "I-I can drop you off at the gas station right on the edge of town. From there, you can walk to just about anywhere you'd like."

"That sounds good to us," Spaulding said. "We're much obliged."

Otis mouthed the words, "We're much obliged" mockingly, then rolled his eyes in disgust. This trying to do good crap wasn't going to be easy, the world had too many jackasses like the driver of this car. "Hey, Chubs, what state are we in?"

"North Carolina," the man said, scowling at being called Chubs. "How can you not know what state you're in?"

"'Cause we were partying like crazy the night before," Baby answered for Otis.

"Don't see how a party could cause you to forget what state you're in," the man pondered.

Baby smiled seductively and fluttered her eyelashes. "Then sugar, you've been going to the wrong parties!"

* * *

Buck Wilson leaned forward on the flormica counter and sighed. _Another three hours and I'll be done for the day, _he thought. _Go home, eat dinner, do homework, go to bed, tomorrow, go to school, come here. Whoopedy do-dah-day, how could I be so lucky?_

When he was slightly less bored with life, Buck would admit that working at the gas station / convenient store wasn't a bad job. The owner liked him, and gave him all the hours he needed. He was paid half a buck over minimum wage, and the job itself wasn't hard. He turned on the pumps and collected money for gas, he rang up purchases in the store, made sure the restrooms were somewhat clean, and stocked the shelves. This job paid better money and was a lot easier than trying to hustle yard work and odd jobs like most of his friends did. With this job, he could afford his car. Yeah, it was a '72 Dodge Swinger, not the most flashy car in the world, but it was all his. If he had to scrounge for the dimes, he never would have been able to afford it.

Yes, Buck knew he should be grateful for this job, and on most days he was. But, every once in awhile, a day like today would crop up, a day where the place was deader than dead, all the grunt work he could do was done, and he was just bored.

_If only Mr. Quinn would let me do my homework when it was dead like this, _ he wished. Not that doing homework was the thrill of a lifetime, but it would be better than the boredom.

He looked under the counter to see if there was anything he could stock behind the counter, but there was nothing. He'd already stocked the cigarettes anyway, and that was the biggest time waster. There was nothing in the back to be put on the shelves, Paco the daytime clerk had done that. The bathrooms were even clean.

He sat down on the stool behind the counter, leaned back against the wall, and started daydreaming about Carla Green. He'd grown up with Carla; heck in a town like Jericho, everyone grew up with everyone, but Carla had done some changing these last couple years and it was all for the good. Her hair had darkened from that carroty orange to the color of fire. Her freckles seemed to have faded too. Even better, she'd gone from having all the curves of a stick of gum into a real fox. Buck figured she was probably a C cup, his friend Victor said she was a B, but Victor had his head up his butt 99 of the time anyway, what did he know? Yeah, Carla was not only a C, but a C who liked to wear tight shirts and sweaters to make what she had look even bigger. If the boobs weren't enough, she also had some killer hips, which she would sway as she walked so any guy within eyeshot would stare with their mouths hanging open. Well, not all of them, because he didn't. Buck kept his cool with Carla, because he knew the best way to get a girl to heat up around you, was to pretend you never noticed her. His older brother, Glen. had told him that, and Buck was finding it to be very true. He was going to give this ignore trick a couple more days and then ask her out. He was feeling confident Carla would accept.

He was lost in a fantasy of the two of them parked by the lake, her peeling off her sweater and begging him to "make her a woman!" when a car pulled in to let three people out before driving away.

It wasn't seeing people dropped off that drew Buck's attention, people were always getting dropped off here for one reason or another. What caught Buck's attention was one of the three.

She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life. Tall, leggy, blonde, and if that wasn't enough, as she turned to shut the door of the car? Buck saw she had the most spectacular ass he'd ever seen in his life. A perfect ass, the sort of ass Helen of Troy must have had, an ass that a man would happily fight wars over.

He brought the stool forward and leaned to get a better view out of the window. Long-legged, dream ass woman was with two other people. Both were guys, so Buck didn't really give a crap about them, except that one might be her boyfriend, which, by looking at the two of them, would mean she had lousy taste in men. Both of them looked really raunchy, she could _definitely_ do a lot better.

The car that dropped them off drove away. The three of them talked for a bit. Her back was to Buck, so he was unable to admire her beautiful face, but he was able to admire that perfect ass some more. _Damn, I'm gonna have to get up early and change the sheets tomorrow, _he thought, _'cause I just know I'm gonna dream about her! _As well as her ass, he admired those long, legs of hers and envisoned them wrapped around his waist.

He fully expected them to just walk away, because that _was_ the kind of day he was having. When they headed inside the place, Buck lept up from the stool, trying to look attentive and to hide his boner behind the counter.

The walked into the store. The two guys started walking up and down the isles. The girl walked over to the counter. "Hi there!"

_Damn, even her voice is pretty! _ "Uh-h-hi!" Buck stammered. _Oh great, _his inward voice snipped, _stutter, why don't you? Yeah, that'll impress the snot out of her. DOOFUS! _Still, nothing he could do but press on and try to cover up his mistake. "Something I can help you with?"

She smiled, giving Buck a glimpse at some of the whitest teeth he'd ever seen. "What's a cute guy like you doin' working here?" she tipped her head to one side appearing to study him carefully. "Handsome guy like you ought to be out havin' fun with at least one of his girlfriends. I'll bet you have moren' one too!"

"Uh yeah," Buck begain, then shook his head. "I mean, uh, no! Not seeing anyone right now." He leaned over on the counter, knocking down a display of eyeglass repair kits in a plastic container. The round kits spilled over the counter, rolling off the counter, and getting everywhere.

_Well, congratulations, you've gone from cool to wiener in .05 seconds! _He scrambled to stand up the tube and started gathering up the tiny cases and shoving them in. "Uh, well, uh,"

"Butterfingers!" The woman of Buck's dreams smiled and helped him pick up the kits.

"Yeah, well, uh, we all have those days." Buck waited for his face to just burst into flames, it certainly felt hot enough. "Uh, thank you."

"No problem!" She grabbed the last few kits from where they'd rolled off the counter and into the candy rack below, and put them back into the container.

When all the eyeglass repair kits were put away, Buck cleared his throat, trying to regain his dignity. "So, uh, what can I help you with?"

Dream woman looked down at her feet. "Well, I need something..."

"Okay, what do you need?"

"Well, I'm a bit embarassed," Dream woman put her hands behind her, and rubbed on the ground with her foot, looking like an innocent little girl about to tell a boy she had a major crush on him.

"Well, I can't help you, if you don't tell me," Buck pointed out, smiling.

"Well, uhm, why don't you just lean over and I can whisper what I need into your ear."

"A-all right." Buck leaned forward on the counter. "If it'll make you feel better." Dream woman leaned over and whispered something very softly in his ear. So softly he couldn't make it out, though her breath made his ear tickle. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

She leaned even closer and put her hand up by her mouth, "I need some –" she paused to look around, as if worried someone might be too close and hear her, "- rubbers."

Briefly, Buck brain malfunctioned and he thought she meant those covers for your shoes people wore when it rained. "We don't have those but I don't think it's going to rain any time soon, you'll have time to get to - " He stopped as the true meaning sunk into his head. "AH! Okay. Uh, well, we don't sell those here. You should try the drugstore. It's just up the street. They'll have what you need."

"No, I think you have exactly what I need," Dream woman disagreed. She was still whispering in his ear.

"Well," he traced circles into the flormica as he spoke softly. "We don't have those. So, what can I get you that we do have?"

"How about all your money?" she whispered.

"What?" He started to pull away, from her, not believing what she was saying. When he did, he felt something hard sticking into his back.

"Easy stallion," a male voice said from behind him. "Take it _real_ easy and no one needs to get hurt."

"What do you want?" Buck tried with very little success, not to panic. Working in a place like this, robbery was always a risk, but he also lived in Jericho. This sort-of thing just didn't happen in Jericho, at least not in the daytime! He'd never been trained on how to handle this situation. He hoped for two things, one that he'd live though this and, two that he wouldn't piss his pants.

"I just want you to open that cash register, take out the money inside, and put it in one of your bags," the man behind him said, "Can you do that for me?"

The woman smiled. "Toss in a couple packages of Malboros too."

"Please don't kill me," Buck whispered, as he inched his way to the cash register.

"Just relax son." The other guy in the group, the heavier one with shorter hair, spoke, as he walked up to the counter and stood next to Baby. "No one is going to get hurt if you just do what my friend behind you asks."

Buck hit the "No Sale" button on the register. The drawer slid out smoothly.

"By the way," the man in front of him said, "Is that your car out there? The puke green one?"

"Y-yes," Buck stammered as he fumbled to grab a paper bag from under the counter.

"We'll be needing the keys to that too," Man-in-front said.

Buck's hands were shaking so badly that he could barely get the metal pieces used to hold the bills down, up. _Oh man, God, are you paying me back for griping about being bored, or for wanting to get to home plate with Carla Green? Either one, I'm sorry! Just don't let these people kill me. Please God, I don't want to die! _

He started tossing the money into the bag. "D-do you want the ch-change, too? The s-s-silver, I m-m-mean?"

"Nope," came from man-behind him, the one who had the gun pressed into his back.

"Yeah, sugar, you can keep the change," Dream woman smiled. man-in-front chuckled at the joke. Buck wondered if he'd ever chuckle again. Buck wondered if he'd die a virgin.

He got the money into the bag, grabbed four packs of Malboro cigarettes and stuffed them in the bag too. "I-I'm giving you extra butts," he said, handing the bag to her, gulping, and raising his hands to show he was defenseless. "S-so please d-don't kill me."

"Aw, as long as you keep cool, you'll be just fine," Dream Woman purred. "It's almost over darlin', we just gotta get those car keys."

"Th-their in my p-pocket," Buck stammered. "M-my f-front pocket. I-I'm gonna have t-to r-reach f-for them."

Man-in-back reached around and reached into Buck's right front pocket, which was the right one. He pulled out the keys to Buck's car. "Good. Now, I'm going to step back. I want you to lie down on the floor, put your hands on your head. Count to five hundred and don't you move a muscle until you're done. If you do, I will shoot you in the fucking head."

Buck nodded and did exactly as he was asked. _ Oh, Christ, I don't want to die. I don't want to die! Christ, I'm betting this lunatic is gonna shoot me in the back!_ Outloud, he started counting so man-behind-him would hear. "One... two... three... four..."

He heard the sounds of the door bell ringing, but that didn't mean all three of them had left. "...five... six... seven..."

* * *

The three of them ran for the car. Baby jumped into the passenger side, while Otis and Spaulding argued over who was going to drive.

"Last time you drove, we were killed!" Spaulding argued.

Otis spoke through gritted teeth, "But I have the fucking keys!"

"So? That means you get to drive?"

"Daddy, let Otis drive!" Baby called out, "we've got to get out of here!"

The two men glared at each other, then Spaulding sighed. "Stuborn as a always."

"Fuck off!" Otis opened the door and slid into the car. When he turned the key in the ignition, the car roared to life and the Styx song, Renegade started screaming over the stereo system.

"I love this song!" Baby shouted turning the volume knob and discovering it was already as high as it would go. "_The jig is up / the news is out / they've finally found me / The renegade / who had it made / retrieved for a bounty / Never more to go astray / This will be the end today / of the wanted man!_" She sang along cheefully as Otis pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road they'd come into town on.

"Jesus Christ, turn that shit down!" Otis snapped as he stomped on the gas. "Or even better, turn it off!"

"Why should she do that?" a familiar, but unexpected voice said. "I rather like this song."

Spaudling turned his head to the left, Otis looked in the rearview mirror and Baby turned her head to look in the back seat. Lou was sitting there, and even though he was smiling, he still managed to look not very pleased.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Otis asked, eyes beginning to narrow.

"What the hell are you doing, _period?"_ Lou responded, his own eyes narrowing.

"Driving!" Otis snapped.

"Really?" Lou tipped his head.

It was then that all of them noticed they weren't moving. Otis's foot was still on the gas pedal, but the car wasn't moving. The radio had stopped playing. Everything around them was now, deathly quiet and deathly still.

"You stopped time!" Baby cried out, as she saw a bird, frozen in flight in the sky. "Holy fuck, you _stopped time!_"

"Yes I did, how observant of you," Lou dryly remarked. "Okay, my bitches, we have to talk."

"Your _what?"_ Spaulding asked, one eye narrowing as he shook his head in disbelief at the Devil's words.

"My bitches," Lou said, looking back at Spaulding, clearly not the least bit intimidated. "Remember, you're so evil, you can't even go to Hell until I've determined you've done enough good. Until then, you're my little playthings. From where I'm standing, that makes you my bitch, right?"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put my boot up yo' ass," Spaulding said, glaring at Lou.

"Because I'm the devil you moron. You'll never get the chance." Lou waved his hand in the air in a dismissive motion. "That's all besides the point. The reason why I'm here is to ask you, what the fuck are you doing?"

"What do you _mean_ what are we doing?" Otis had shifted at this point, so he was looking into the back seat. Much easier than craining his neck to use the rearveiw mirror to see into the back seat. "We're trying to get away from a robery. What the fuck are _you_ doing, bothering us?"

"I'm bothering you, because I thought the whole point of my sending you back to earth was for you to do enough good to earn your places in Hell!"

"And?" Otis motioned for Lou to continue.

"Doing good does _not_ mean robbing a convenient store and stealing the clerks car!" the Devil glared at him.

Otis, Spaulding, and Baby all looked at each other, confused. "Well, it ain't legal, that's for sure," Spaulding finally said. "But it's not like it's really evil. We didn't even hurt the clerk."

"That's besides the point!" Lou shook his head, covering his eyes with his hand for a moment. "I didn't tell you 'hey, as long as you don't kill anyone, we're cool!' I said you have to do _good._ Maybe I didn't make it crystal clear, but as well as doing good, you have to try to not do bad. Robbing store? Robbing store, bad! Scaring poor clerk? Scaring clerk BAD! Stealing poor clerk's car? BAD! You three right now? BAD!" He wagged his finger at all of them.

"But we gotta find a way to survive, don't we?" Otis pointed out, glaring back at Lou.

"Hey, here's a clue for you, Mr. Driftwood," The Devil leaned forward so he was only inches away from Otis' face. "Get. A. Job!"

"I should just-" Otis raised his fist.

"You ought to what?" Lou taunted. "Hit me? Like you can. Hello? Are you forgetting, I'm Satan!"

"The job thing is a good idea," Baby interjected herself into the conversation, trying to get Otis to back off. Pissing off the devil didn't seem like the wisest choice of things to do. "But what do we do in the meantime? We've got to survive and even if we all get jobs today, we won't get paid for at least a week! What do we do for that week?"

"What do we do for that week?" the devil mimicked. "Aww, the three badasses are worried they're going to go hungry or have to sleep on the streets!" His expression went back to serious. "I don't care. The three of you have shown a remarkable amount of fortitude and intelligence when it came to doing evil. Now it's time to twist that intelligence around and use it for doing good. That includes being able to come up with alternative for survival that doesn't include breaking the law!"

"It was just going to be this once!" Spaulding said. "Just to get us started."

"Yeah, that's what they all say." Another wave of dismissal came from the Devil's hand. "Just one little robbery. Then the money runs out and it's just one more, so on and so forth until you're surviving by robbery and you're so far in the hole with the bad over the good that I might as well just chain you to earth forever. I'm not telling you again, turn the car around and head back. Return the money, return the car."

"That's no good!" Baby protested. "That kid's probably called the cops by now!"

"I stopped time, remember?" Lou signed. "The kid is still lying on the floor. And yes, Otis, you can start turning around and heading back, I'll give control of the vehicle back to you. I also won't start time again, until you're back."

"The kid will _still_ call the cops," Spaulding said. "And we'll be arrested in seconds. How much good can we do from jail?"

The devil shrugged. "Well, I know a few people in jail that would love to make Otis here their wife. Think you'd like that, big boy?"

"I'll show you, shithead," Otis snaped.

Baby had to grab him to keep him from climbing over the seat, "Otis, calm down."

"Oh, let him go!" Lou laughed. "This might be amusing."

It was the Devil's words that made Otis reconsider and sit back down in the seat. "No one is making me their fucking wife."

"Then you'll have to figure out a way to convince the clerk not to call the cops," the Devil said. "Oral sex might help." He looked over at Baby.

"Huh?" Baby's eyes widened.

"Oral sex. You've certainly heard of oral sex, Baby," Lou smirked. "You've even had a lot of hands on, or should I say, mouth on experience with oral sex. The boy is is sixteen and he thinks you're the most beautiful woman in the world. I'll bet a blowjob will be all the convincing he needs not to call the cops."

"But what if I don't want to that?" Baby asked.

"Then be prepared to make some woman in prision very happy." Lou smiled. "If you really please her, I might even count some of that as doing good deeds. I feel lesbians are very under appreciated in this world today."

"Aw shit," Baby muttered.

"You know, it doesn't seem quite fair to make the kid have to do this," Spaulding said. "Isn't there another way?"

"Well, _you're_ welcome to offer a blow job, but I don't think that will hold the same appeal to the boy."

Otis couldn't help but snigger at the Devil's last remark. Knowing it was pointless to argue, he'd already begun turning around the car and heading back. He was fortunate this road wasn't highly traveled. If both lanes had been heavily in use, weaving around the suspended-in-time cars would have been difficult.

"Oh, very funny," Spaulding snapped. "I'm just sayin' if you can stop time, can't you run it backwards? Make it so we never robbed the place?"

Lou's eyes suddenly widened, and he broke into a grin. "Wow, that's true, I could do that!" he exclaimed.

"Well then, there we go!" Spaulding leaned back in the seat looking satisfied.

"It's just too bad for you three I won't!" The Devil continued in the same tone of voice, the same wide eyed expression on his face. Then, his expression grew serious. "Part of doing good is admitting when you've done wrong, owning up to your mistakes and trying to make good on them. This is a perfect way for you to begin."

"Great, you sound like a Sunday School teacher," Otis griped.

"Oh, like you ever went to Sunday school," Lou shot back. "C'mon, back we go."

"I'm driving, I'm driving," Otis muttered.


End file.
